


the weight of the world will give you the strength to go

by scxrletters



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: A lot - Freeform, Abusive Parents, Angst, Anxiety, Art stealing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Like, M/M, Mentions of Emotional Abuse, Panic Attacks, Platonic Kissing, Trans Character, and their break-up, mentions of my chemical romance, mentions of transphobia, non-binary characters, use of a lot of neo pronouns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-07 22:59:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7733110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scxrletters/pseuds/scxrletters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>prompts: e/R with trans enj and a R & Jehan angst with a cat on the side.</p><p>--<br/>“Motherfucker,” Bossuet said. “They did steal Grantaire’s art.”</p><p>“Grantaire,” Combeferre said. “Did you know about this?”</p><p>Grantaire paused. He didn’t want to tell the truth, but at this point, there was no point in lying. They already knew the answer. “It’s not the first time,” he admitted quietly.</p><p>“What the fuck?” Enjolras said loudly, frowning angrily. “Why would anyone do that?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	the weight of the world will give you the strength to go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theplottingpoet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theplottingpoet/gifts).



> a HUGE thank you to my beta, [ R](http://luckyfsh.tumblr.com/), who did an absolutely wonderful job editing and giving feedback on this fic !! i'm so glad we got to know each other thanks to this. thank you also to my irl friend, michelle, who basically became my sounding board when i first started working on this. sorry for the midnight yelling. and of course, thank you to whoever had requested this prompt and the mods of the entire event (?). sorry if this isn't what you were expecting and for asking for extensions so often
> 
> the angst is quite mild and i'm not sure if anything in here could trigger anyone, but just to be safe, **please take a look at the tags before reading it!**
> 
> title was taken from Robot Boy by Linkin Park, which is a song that always reminds me of grantaire every time i listen to it. i'm not sure if it would work as a soundtrack to this, but if you're interested i listened to Mayday Parade's self-titled album a lot while writing this. it's hella great
> 
> i hope you enjoy the fic!

****Grantaire was just scrolling through his Tumblr dashboard when he saw one of his drawings of an original character. He cringed. It wasn’t one of his best works, and he dumped that character just a few days ago. They were too generic.

Seeing it like this, a few months after he finished and posted it, the mistakes in the drawing were glaringly obvious. He went _way_ overboard with the shading – especially in the hair, it looked darker there than the actual character design – the nose was slightly off, there were too many wrinkles in their clothing to actually look natural, he could go _on_ and _on_ . And not to mention the basic staring-off-into-the-distance expression ( _God_ , why did he _do_ that) while posing on a non-existent platform that Grantaire apparently hadn’t even bothered drawing the _lines_ for. And who posed like that?

Grantaire couldn’t believe it, but he actually _did_ improve.

He sighed. He wished he could delete it, but Jehan made him promise he wouldn’t a few months back. “ _You’ll come to regret it one day,_ ” ve had said. “ _You will want to look back on your past works, but you wouldn’t be able to because you made sure every trace has evaporated._ ” Grantaire didn’t really believe vir, but abided vys words anyway.

He continued scrolling, but something made him pause just as the bottom of the post was going to disappear. The caption was gone, and there were _so many_ notes on the post. Too many.

It was a bit over 107,000 notes, and okay, that _can’t_ be true, because Grantaire barely had 2,000 followers. _None_ of his previous posts has reached that many notes. The m ost he’s gotten was 70,000-ish, and _that_ already felt like a dream.

Grantaire felt as if something was off, and at that point, it wasn’t even his low self-esteem anymore. It was simply too good to be true. Something seemed _wrong_ , and when he saw the source, he didn’t know if he should cheer because he was right or weep because the blog linked wasn’t his.

He took out his phone, opened up his blog, and searched for the original post. His heart couldn’t help sinking a little when he saw the one he posted had a bit less than 30,000 notes.

Grantaire shut his laptop gently and set it aside, frowning. Someone stole his art. And got more recognition for it for it than he did. He was upset, _and_ angry. The drawing was terrible, sure, but it was still _his_ and he put _work_ into it. _Hours_ of work.

The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. Someone _stole_ his art. _His_ art. His _work_. And got thrice as many notes.

But then, a thought stopped him. Someone thought his art was good enough to be stolen. Wasn’t that a good thing? It was a compliment, wasn’t it? And it got that many notes, too. His art was getting attention, and that was what mattered at the end of the day, right? Instead of getting angry, shouldn’t he be thanking the OP and celebrate?

(Subconsciously, Grantaire knew the voice that was talking in his head was the ‘bad’ voice, the one that fed him dark thoughts, his insecurities, and that following what it said had never resulted in good things. He had always ended up drowning when he did, and in several occasions, he nearly, literally, did. Even so, he can’t stop himself from listening to it.)

His phone suddenly rang, and he jumped out of his thoughts. Thank god his laptop wasn’t still on his lap. He grabbed it from where it was lying on his bedside table – if it even counted as one; it was only a box filled with his books so it was sturdy – and cursed when he saw that it was the alarm that told him to start moving to the Musain if he didn’t want to be late for the day’s ABC meeting.

Grantaire wasn’t quite sure why he kept going to ABC meetings. Sure, the key members of the society were pretty much all of his closest friends, and he did agree with most, if not all, of their views – intersectional feminism, with a special emphasis on LGBT+ rights, racism, and ableism. He just didn’t like their methods – riots, protests, endless letters – which took up most of their activities and were, honestly, useless.

He stood up from his bed – a mattress on the floor – and changed into clean. Or, well, _cleaner_ clothes. Before Grantaire left, he made sure to take his sketchbook and some pencils before heading for the door. He cursed under his breath when he saw the reminder he put up for himself to take his keys with him and turned around to do so. After he made sure he had everything he needed, he left his studio apartment and started his walk to the Musain.

It moved to the back of Grantaire’s mind as it was replaced by the thought of meeting his friends, and he forgot about it.

  
\--

 

Grantaire picked up his cup of coffee and leaned back on his chair. He contemplated his new drawing. It was a fanart of Hohenheim from _Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood_ . He had just finished the series yesterday (with a lot of tears and cursing at Jehan on the phone because ve was the one who introduced him to it) and he just _had_ to draw his favorite character.

In the drawing, Hohenheim was smiling down at a picture of his wife, Trisha, with their kids, though it couldn’t be seen from the angle Grantaire drew it from. After the final episode, Grantaire just decided he needed to draw the character happy because he _deserved more_.

The drawing was simple enough; Grantaire didn’t want to spend too much time working on it as he had some college work to do – which he probably wouldn’t do until later, but who cared? The shading wasn’t the best he could do, but it looked okay. It didn’t have a background, but at least the table Hohenheim was leaning on was detailed. And there was even a plant on it! Grantaire ought to pat himself on the back.

He finished and set down his coffee and saved the drawing one more time – Grantaire was _not_ going to take any more chances on his art after that _one time_ he forgot to save his file and his laptop died on him – before closing Photoshop (where he did final touches to his drawings) and opening up Tumblr.

He clicked ‘Photo’ and paused. Was the drawing _really_ good enough to post? He didn’t put that much effort into it, after all. It was just a little something he did to satisfy his happy-Hohenheim needs. Also, yeah, he’s posted some FMAB fanart on his blog before, but it never got that many notes compared to his other original drawings. Not a lot of his followers knew or liked the anime (though Grantaire _seriously_ doubted if it was possible to not like it), and they were probably sick of seeing it on their dashboard all the time. It wasn’t even _that_ good anyway.

Suddenly, he remembered his drawing that got stolen, and his mood sunk even further. This drawing was definitely not good enough to be stolen. It was half-assed at best, it would _never_ get stolen. It didn’t even _deserve_ getting stolen. Even if it _was_ , it wouldn’t even reach the average amount of notes he usually got. It was a terrible drawing.

Grantaire took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He clicked ‘Discard’ and scrolled down to see what was on his dashboard and to take his mind off things. When his mood still hadn’t improved much a half hour later, he called up Jehan.

“Am I forgiven for not warning you about Episode 62 yet?” Ve greeted him.

“I will _never_ forgive you for that. Letting me go into that episode without even telling me to prepare some tissues first is just _evil_ , Jehan. You betrayed me.”

Jehan huffed, and Grantaire let out an amused breath. He shut his laptop and stood up, picking up his cup of coffee, as ve said, “So, what did you call me up at 3AM for?”

“It’s 3AM?” Grantaire pulled his phone from his ear and raised an eyebrow when he saw that it _was_ 3AM. “Huh. So it is. You sound pretty awake, anyway.”

“I took a pretty long nap this afternoon.” Suddenly, there was a quiet _meow_ in the background. Jules must’ve been awakened by the noise. “Sorry, hold on.” There was some shuffling, then Grantaire could hear vir talking softly to vys cat, apologizing to her. He could see vir stroking her back on vys bed, Jules twisting to find a more comfortable position. “Sorry, Jules woke up,” ve said, quieter. “So, what’s your reason?”

Grantaire set his cup down in the sink and said, seriously, “Van Hohenheim was a good fucking person and deserved so much more in his life.”

“ _Fuck_ yes.”

  
\--

 

Grantaire wouldn’t say the art stealing thing was _on his mind_ , but it was definitely on his mind.

Ever since then, that was all he thought about when drawing. Was it good enough to be stolen? Would people think his art was good enough to be reposted and get a hundred thousand notes? Did it deserve getting stolen?

His sketchbook – the cheap ones he bought himself, not the fancy ones Combeferre got for him last Christmas, he could only use those for college work, he didn’t think his self-indulgent art was good enough to be put on such high quality paper – was filled with half-done sketches with a mess of scribbles all over it so no one could see it. Some of the pages were ripped out, though Grantaire tried not to do that too much since he had enough trash in his studio already and he didn’t need more crumpled up paper balls scattered everywhere where people could _see_ the terrible drawings. They thought Grantaire was a good artist, and he wasn’t going to actively contribute into destroying that image.

He didn’t really notice how much getting his art stolen affected him and his creative process until an Anon sent him an ask talking about how they noticed that he was posting less frequently and hardly ever any sketches or WIPs. And, though detailed and complex, his newer drawings lacked the same ‘feel’ it had before.

He stared at his laptop, taken aback. He opened his art tag and frowned at it. Was it obvious he was trying to up his game? He only wanted to post _good_ works and he felt as if his sketches and WIPs weren’t good enough to be shared. Was the change in his art for the good or the bad? The Anon only said that it had a _different_ feel, and change wasn’t bad, right?

There was a notification for a new ask. He clicked on the icon and read a message from an Anon that read, “ _same anon from previous ask!! sorry it’s creepy i noticed all that aha. your art is just a big inspiration for me so i pay attention to it a lot but anyway !! i wanted to say you’re one of the best artists here imo and your blog is definitely my fav. you’re so talented and you seem really nice and kind and i hope ur having a great day/week/year/LIFE. also uh you’re kinda hot okay thanks bye_ ”.

Grantaire wasn’t having a great day, or week, or year, or life, but at least he was smiling. He hoped the Anon doesn’t mind too much if he never answered so he could keep their message in his Askbox forever.

His phone’s alarm tone rang and he lifted it to check which alarm it was. His screen said “ _ABC DINNER NIGHT_ ”. He stood up and went around his studio, taking the things he needed to leave. He cursed when he saw the huge warning with “ _DRESS WARMLY_ ” written on a paper on the door.

Grantaire turned around and picked up his coat from where it was lying on the floor by the door. He walked out of his studio and locked it behind him before putting on his coat and pulling out a grey cowl and a dark green cable knit beanie Feuilly had knit him. He put it on as he walked down the stairs and out into the streets. He turned left and headed towards the triumvirate’s apartment.

\--  


Grantaire opened the door that was far better than his – the triumvirate’s door was always open, a fact he found absolutely ridiculous – and was greeted by Courfeyrac yelling “Who’s- Grantaire!” and _jumping_ at him. “Thank _God_ you’re here, Combeferre needs some help with the cooking since neither ‘Chetta, ‘Rel, or Feuilly are here yet – which is just their luck, really – and they’ve been complaining for _hours_ now.”

Grantaire raised an eyebrow and pulled away from Courfeyrac, taking off his beanie and cowl, stuffing them into the pockets of his coat before taking it off and setting it on the coat hanger. He couldn’t imagine cooking for over ten people by himself, especially considering the ABC’s appetite and the number of dishes usually served to satisfy everyone’s different tastes. Cooking for their ‘little’ group was probably harder than cooking for Chinese New Year with Joly and Cosette.

Courf bounded over back to Enjolras, who was sitting on the couch, talking to Eponine and Jehan. Grantaire waved at them and he received a blown kiss from Jehan, a smirk from Eponine, and a nod accompanied with a small smile from Enjolras. Grantaire noticed Enjolras wasn’t binding and quickly averted his eyes, heading for the kitchen.

“Grantaire?” Combeferre called out. “Thank god you’re here. Can you give the curry a stir, please? Make sure it isn’t burnt. Aprons are where they usually are.”

He walked in and opened the drawer closest to him, getting a random apron and putting it on. Thankfully Enjolras, Courfeyrac, and Combeferre’s families were rich enough to afford a big enough apartment that could fit their entire group _and_ have a big enough kitchen that could fit three people cooking easily. Grantaire stirred the thick, brown Japanese curry and tasted it. “Is this the vegan main menu for tonight?” There was a ruckus going on back in the living room, and he assumed someone had arrived.

“Yep,” Combeferre answered while chopping up some onions. They were probably the only person Grantaire knew that could cut up onions without even a single tear in their eye. “Can you prep the salad by the way? Oh, and should we make some chicken _katsu_ to go with the curry for our non-vegan friends?”

“I don’t see why not,” Musichetta said, walking into the kitchen. She then grabbed Grantaire who was preparing the salad around the shoulders and kissed his temple, ruffling his hair. “How are you, darling?”

“Fine, mom,” said Grantaire in a fake high-pitched voice, ended with an ‘ugh’ and an eye roll. Musichetta raised an eyebrow as if to say ‘are you challenging me?’ and he smirked. She sighed and pretended to scowl before grabbing a pot and the 3 packs of spaghetti already prepared on the counter. Grantaire wondered how the triumvirate’s apartment could have so much _space_.

Grantaire and Musichetta shooed Combeferre out of the kitchen so they could rest while they finished up the rest of the dishes. Combeferre gave them a tired grateful smile and walked out into the living room.

  
\--

 

After everyone was done eating, they all piled into the living room. Some had their laptops with them, scrolling through Tumblr – Enjolras looked like ae just found some pretty nasty Discourse – some just talking and drinking. Grantaire was in the latter group, naturally.

Eponine’s eyebrows rose and she said, loudly, “Yo! R! Your art’s on my dash!”

Grantaire cringed and drank as a lot of the Amis scrambled to their feet to see. Even Enjolras, who was sitting next to Eponine, was tilting aers head to get a look. Sweet Jesus.

“It’s the one of Élisabeth! Oh, my sweet, trans daughter,” Jehan cooed. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you how much I love her expression here. She looks so happy and it lifts my heart up to the sky. You will never understand how joyful this makes me, R.”

“Is she wearing _my scarf_?” Bahorel asked.

“Possibly,” Grantaire answered.

“Out of all your OCs, Élisabeth is probably my favorite,” Cosette said. “She’s trans fem and she’s _adorable_. I love her.”

“My crops are watered, my skin is clear, my children are fed,” Musichetta said.

“Holy shit, dude,” Courfeyrac said in wonder. “Your post got over 100k notes!”

Grantaire raised an eyebrow and drank again. There’s no way _that_ can be true.

“Where did the caption go, though?” Joly asked.

“Wait, hold on,” Feuilly said, squinting hir eyes. Grantaire’s stomach dropped a little. “The source isn’t Grantaire’s blog.”

Everyone was silent for a moment, taking that in. Grantaire continued to drink.

“Maybe Tumblr fucked up..?” Marius said, timidly.

Suddenly, Enjolras started furiously typing something on aers laptop with a frown and mumble that Grantaire couldn’t pick up. Once ae was done typing, they all turned to aers screen, instead. Grantaire looked down. Getting his art stolen wasn’t a big deal. The rest of the ABC just proved that when they completely set it aside in a matter of seconds.

“Motherfucker,” Bossuet said. “They _did_ steal Grantaire’s art.”

Oh. They were searching up the original post.

“Grantaire,” Combeferre said. “Did you know about this?”

Grantaire paused. He didn’t want to tell the truth, but at this point, there was no point in lying. They already knew the answer. “It’s not the first time,” he admitted quietly.

“What the _fuck_?” Enjolras said loudly, frowning angrily. “Why would anyone do that?”

Grantaire felt even more ashamed of himself. Aers anger was exactly how he was supposed to be reacting, and ae wasn’t even the artist. Ae probably thought he was a coward for not saying or doing anything up to this point.

“I’m going to call their ass out,” Bahorel said, pulling out his phone.

Grantaire’s eyes widened and he set his bottle down. “Don’t!” he said, loudly, and immediately regretted it afterwards. Everyone was staring at him, and he shrunk in on himself. His hands were shaking slightly. “Just… Just leave it alone,” he said, nervously spinning the bottle. _I should be grateful it was even good enough to be stolen_ , he thought. He didn’t want to say it out loud, because he knew how they would react. And he just didn’t want them to treat him like a child. Not then, anyway. “I’ll take care of it myself,” he said.

“Grantaire,” Jehan said, sounding so, so, sad.

“Don’t.” Grantaire looked away. “Not now, Jehan.” He took a deep breath. “I’m going to the bathroom,” he said, before standing up and making his way to the door at the end of the hall. He didn’t want to think about his art, or the thievery, or anything to do directly with _him_. He just wanted to exist for just a second without having to worry or stress about anything.

He walked into the bathroom. Technically, he didn’t run away, since he really did have to use the bathroom. He felt less bad about walking away from all his friends.

Grantaire washed his hands and his lips and dried them off with tissue paper. He stood there for a moment, leaning against the wall. While taking breaths and clenching and unclenching his fists a few times, he tried to forget about what happened. The result could almost count as a success.

He went outside and walked to the kitchen to get a glass of water. Joly would be proud of him, drinking water in between alcohol and all. He was drinking responsibly (if you could say drinking five bottles of beer was responsible).

When he strolled back into the living room, trying to look casual, he was glad to find that everyone else has gone back to where they were before Eponine announced about the presence of his work on her dash. Thankfully, everyone was as willing to put it behind as he was.

“Grantaire, come here,” Jehan said, gesturing for him with vir right hand, the other moving on vys laptop’s touchpad. He sat on the armrest of the chair ve was sitting in. “I need to show you a few of these things I found on FMAB.” Ve grinned and rested an arm around Grantaire’s waist as he leaned on the chair’s back rest to see vys laptop screen clearly.

He felt someone watching him, and looked up. Enjolras was staring right at him, looking almost thoughtful. When ae realized Grantaire was staring back, ae looked embarrassed and went back to aer laptop. Grantaire frowned and wondered what got the fearless leader to suddenly give him attention, but he shrugged it off.

Grantaire caught Enjolras’ gaze several times that night.

  
\--

 

Grantaire was just lying on his stomach on the floor of Jehan’s apartment when he felt a weight settle on his back. He turned his head to look over his shoulder and saw a fat, furry cat looking as elegant and content as ever curled up in the middle of his back. “Hi Jules,” he said.

Jules meowed, looking right at him.

He sighed and rested his head on his arms, staring at his sketchbook on the floor next to him. It was open to a blank page, and he already had his pencils and all, but nothing was happening. It frustrated Grantaire. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath instead.

He heard Jehan walk into the room and let out a quiet giggle. There was the sound of cups being set down on a table – Jehan had been making tea for virself and Grantaire – and vys nails clacking against vys phone screen, probably to take a picture and send to the ABC group chat. Grantaire sighed again.

When Grantaire’s own phone buzzed with the notification, he asked, “You done there, or do you want to take more pictures of me being crushed by the weight of your lazy ass cat?”

“Oh, shush, Jules isn’t _that_ heavy,” Jehan answered, picking up the cat and stroking her ears. “Don’t listen to him, darling. He’s just envious of how pretty you are.”

“I am my own brand of pretty, Jean Prouvaire,” Grantaire retorted, sitting up and adjusting his sweater. “My beauty surpasses the level of what humans are capable of perceiving. If you could see just how beautiful I am, you would all cower and kneel before me.”

“Of course,” Jehan said, setting Jules down to give Grantaire a cup of tea and tap his nose before settling on the couch. Grantaire smiled and took the cup in both hands, using his sweater paws to protect his hands. He blew on it before taking a sip, immediately relaxing afterwards. Jules walked onto his lap and nestled there.

“Y’know,” he said, drinking his tea. “I’m starting to think Jules likes me better than you.”

“Oh, nonsense,” Jehan said. “She just misses you.”

“Aw, Jules,” he said, petting the cat. She purred happily. “I missed you too, buddy. Sorry I haven’t been coming around lately.”

“About that.” Ve took a sip of vys tea. “Why haven’t you been visiting recently?”

Grantaire took a look at his best friend and knew he wasn’t going to get out of this one. Still, he lied, “I’ve been busy.” Anything he could do to stall the actual interrogation, he would.

Jehan’s gaze went to his sketchbook on the floor and back to Grantaire. “Busy with handling art block?”

Grantaire kept his eyes on Jules. “I came out to have a good time and honestly, I’m feeling so attacked right now,” he mumbled.

Ve sighed. “Don’t try to derail the conversation with your Nick Jonas memes, R.” Ve sipped on vys tea.

He took a deep breath and challenged himself to look at Jehan. He managed to do it for five seconds, before smiling a bit. “You kind of look like that Kermit meme with the Truth Tea.”

“ _Kermit_?” Jehan sounded genuinely baffled, then looked down at vys lime green shirt and dark green skirt. “Oh. I can see where you’re coming from.” Ve looked back at Grantaire, vys gaze gentle. “But be honest with me, Grantaire. You’ve been off for awhile now.” Grantaire didn’t deny it. Jehan set down vys tea cup and slid down from vys seat on the couch onto the floor across him. “How long have you known about your art being stolen?”

“A couple of months,” he answered truthfully.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“I didn’t think it would be such a big deal,” he shrugged. That was the worst lie he ever told, and he knew Jehan saw right through it. He sighed. “Because I _know_ none of you are going to like how I responded. And I...” He took a deep breath. “I don’t want any of you to defend my art, or anything. The idea of any of you doing that…embarrasses me? Well, not really, but sort of. I just don’t think my art is really worth defending, and certainly not by other people who aren’t even _me_. I should be thankful they thought it was good enough to be taken in the first place. I mean, in a way, it’s a compliment, right?” He knew the answer to that. He knew everything he said was just bullshit his shitty mind came up with.

Jehan looked at him patiently. Grantaire took a deep breath and continued. “But I _hate_ how it’s affected my art. I can’t even make art without thinking ridiculous things like ‘is this good enough to be stolen?’ It’s fucking exhausting and it’s taken such a toll on _me_ and I _hate_ that it affects me so much. I can barely make art now, and I feel kind of bad for my followers. It’s just… so _tiring_ . I _have_ to make my art as best as it can be, and I’ve spent days just working on a single piece because I can’t get it to look _right_ . I hardly ever post anything anymore, and when I do, I don’t even _like_ it. It barely feels _mine_. It feels… off.

“And- and like, I _know_ what that person did was wrong, stealing someone’s art is wrong and _illegal_ , and I _was_ mad at first but now I’m just… I don’t know. Tired. I just wish it never happened, or I never saw it, because I just want it to _get out of my head_.”

Grantaire closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He let it out. He let his feelings out, and he admitted that listening to his dark thoughts was exhausting and that he wanted it to just _stop_. That was something, right? Admitting the problem was the first step towards recovery, right?

“Can I hug you?” Jehan asked quietly. Grantaire looked up, surprised. He nodded, and vys arms slowly went around his neck. “Thank you for trusting me with this,” ve said into his neck. Grantaire’s muscles slowly untensed, and his arms went around vys small frame. “I’m sorry you’re going through this.”

Ve pulled away and placed a gentle kiss on his lips before sitting back down on the floor. “Personally, I think you should take a hiatus from your art blog.” Grantaire frowned at vir. “You’re too worried about how _other people_ feel about your art,but in truth, the most important opinion is yours. Art is selfish. Your art should be for yourself, but you’ve forgotten how to do that.” Ve smiled gently. “Take a break from trying to satisfy people, and learn how to make art for yourself again.”

“People would unfollow me,” Grantaire shook his head.

“Wrong,” Jehan said. “No one in Tumblr really cares if someone no longer shows up on their dashboard. They just go on. And if you announce you’re taking a hiatus, I’m sure they’ll understand and wait for you.”

“But… what do I say to them?”

“Tell them the truth,” ve said. “Without as many details, of course. You can say that you’re not in a very good place currently, or the such. You don’t owe any of them an explanation, anyway. Your blog is for you to control.”

Grantaire rubbed his face and downed the rest of his tea that already turned – ugh, gross – cold. “I’ll consider it,” he said. “But what do I do with the whole art being stolen thing?”

“Well, in my opinion, you should whoop their ass,” ve said bluntly. Grantaire grimaced. “It _is_ okay to be mad about it, you know. You _should_ , in fact. What they did is horrible, sickening, and absolutely disrespectful. But if you still don’t want to confront them, that’s fine,” ve added. Then, ve went thoughtful. “Although, if you’re not going to confront them yourself, I’m pretty sure someone else will.”

“Oh, god, that’s even worse,” he bemoaned, clutching his hair. “They’ll think I’m a coward for not stepping up myself.”

“Or, you know, think you never saw it, because I’m pretty sure they would run if you _did_ confront them.”

“ _Why_?”

“Well,” Jehan started, tilting vys head. “Usually, the artist gets mad about this kind of stuff. Or vagueblogs about it. Those are always fun.”

“True,” he mumbled.

“But, seriously,” ve said. “One of your followers will eventually see and report them to you. And hopefully call them out. Maybe they already have. And, well, there’s also the ABC.” Ve smiled. “You know yourself how we get when someone disrespects a member of our group.”

Grantaire let out a breath of laughter and smiled. He couldn’t deny the things Jehan said; they were all true. The ABC was kind of embarrassing, but they all cared for each other deeply. That was the one thing Grantaire could always rely on.

Jehan went up to make them another cup of tea and prepare some A:TLA episodes to watch while Grantaire stroked Jules, who was happily asleep on his lap. In that moment of silence, he couldn’t help thinking of what Enjolras would do about his art being stolen.

Ae had that look when ae was just about to launch into a 5-minute rant on how discrimination and systematic oppression are different and how people _couldn’t get that_ , but that didn’t really mean anything. An emotional response didn’t mean actually doing something.

Would ae even go so far as to defend him? Did Grantaire actually rank high enough in aers heart to be protected by aer? Probably not. Even if he did, ae had a lot of other better things to do than defend aers poor artist friend.

Jules stirred in Grantaire’s lap, meowing. He looked down in surprise, having forgotten the little (not really) furball was still on him. “Hey there,” he said, stroking her head. “Did I wake you with my thinking? Sorry. I’ll think quieter now.”

She meowed again, clawing at his stomach. She stared into his eyes, and Grantaire swore she looked worried. His heart softened.

“Don’t worry about me, Jules,” he said quietly. “I’ll be okay.”

She kept staring.

“I promise?” Grantaire offered.

Jules nodded and walked off of his lap. Grantaire watched her walk away and jump onto the couch, resting on a pillow. He smiled at the cat. He was glad to be one of the few people Jules didn’t constantly hiss at along with Jehan and Bahorel. He thanked her silently.

\--  


On Christmas Eve, Grantaire posted a drawing of his OCs in the ugliest Christmas sweaters he could find in Joly, Bossuet, and Bahorel’s closets. He had to hold himself from making it too detailed and complex. He _did_ have to post it on time, after all.

Below the drawing, he wrote a simple Christmas message, and the announcement of his hiatus. He used the reason Jehan gave him – that he wasn’t in a very good place – and apologized. After the post went online, he closed his eyes and took deep breaths. _It’s okay_ , he reminded himself. _Your art is good enough, and it’s okay to be selfish. It’s okay to take a rest._

 _Is it really?_ , asked his shitty thoughts.

 _Fuck off_ , he said to it.

He closed his Tumblr tab and changed into his customary ugly Christmas sweater – the only one he had and was willing to wear – and grabbed his things before leaving his studio for the triumvirate’s.

  
\--

 

Grantaire woke up on Christmas with a headache that could make him fall onto his knees and cry. He whimpered and snuggled under his blanket.

“Oh, good, you’re alive,” Enjolras said wryly from across him, sipping on a cup of coffee. At least ae was still keeping aer voice quiet. “Water and aspirin is already on the table in front of you.”

Grantaire groaned but sat up anyway, swaying on his seat. He yawned and rubbed his face before resting his head on his hand, his eyelids drooping. He was still wearing the hideous sweater with the odd-looking reindeer. Its eyes were a perfect circle with a small dot in the middle that made it seem like it was watching everything you did. Grantaire treasured it.

“ _Drink it_ ,” Enjolras said.

He sighed and reached for the glass and popped the pills into his mouth. He swallowed it with the water, finishing the entire glass in one go. He set it down after he was finished and leaned back on the couch he slept on. “Thanks,” he mumbled.

“Anything I can do to prevent my friends from falling over and dying.”

Grantaire hummed in reply.

“Want coffee?”

“Please,” he mumbled.

Enjolras stood up and went to the kitchen, expertly dodging wine stains and empty bottles. He closed his eyes and winced when the pain hit him again. He wished it would just go away quickly.

“Hands,” ae suddenly said from in front of him.

Grantaire pulled the sleeves of his sweater over his hands before putting them out. A glass was carefully placed on them and he opened his eyes and sat up straight to drink it. It was made perfectly; with a bit of milk and sugar.

“Thank you,” he rasped, after he finished basking in the glory of coffee. “How did you know how I like my coffee?”

Enjolras shrugged and drank aers own. “I memorize the entire ABC’s coffee preferences. After all, I’m usually the only one who’s capable of making coffee during the morning after. And it gets a bit tiring to hear all of you yelling how you take your coffee every week.”

Grantaire nodded and sipped on his coffee. He frowned then blinked. The apartment was suspiciously quiet. “Wait, where’s everyone?”

“Most of them have already left to go to their parents,” ae answered. “Eponine is taking Gav and ‘Zelma on a trip, and Feuilly’s working a Christmas shift right now.”

“Hold up.” Grantaire’s frown deepened. “What time is it?”

“Almost noon,” ae took a sip of his coffee while looking at Grantaire with aers _I’m-judging-you_ look. “I have to say, I’m quite impressed by your devotion to sleeping.”

“I appreciate it.” He blinked. “Fuck, I missed everyone leaving?”

“Pretty much,” Enjolras said, taking another sip.

“ _Fuck_!”

“It’s fine,” ae said, setting down aers coffee. “You did look pretty tired, and even now, you still look like you haven’t gotten a good night’s rest. They understand.”

Grantaire slumped against the couch and sighed. “I am a terrible friend.”

“You’re a tired friend. That’s _very_ different.”

“And _you’re_ a stubborn friend.” He finished his coffee and placed his cup on the coffee table, beside the glass. “Can I borrow your shower?”

“Go ahead,” Enjolras said, tilting aers head. “Just go on in, I’ll get your clothes.”

Grantaire stood up and stretched, yawning. He shuffled towards the bathroom while Enjolras went to grab the bag of clothes Grantaire had left in the apartment. He was really glad Combeferre got all of them to leave clothes in their apartment. It made morning-afters and times when his studio was just too far much easier.

When he stepped out of the shower, Enjolras had already laid his clothes out and left the bag on the floor for his dirty ones. He dried off using the small spare towel he had put in his bag. He changed into his new clothes – an old My Chemical Romance shirt with the album art of Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge and skinny jeans – and stuffed his sweater and soaked jeans into the bag. He stepped out of the bathroom, toweling his hair one more time before putting it into the bag too.

Enjolras blinked at him from where ae was sitting, aers iPad in hand. “I didn’t know you like My Chemical Romance,” he said.

Grantaire raised his eyebrows. “Were you not there when I was loudly sobbing over their break up in smudged red eyeliner at the Musain?”

“Nope,” ae answered. “I was too busy washing off my own eyeliner-streaked cheeks with Combeferre right here.”

Grantaire’s jaw dropped. “ _You_ like My Chem?”

Enjolras raised an eyebrow in challenge. “And Fall Out Boy, Panic, Green Day, along with a whole lot of other bands.”

Grantaire burst out laughing. “Holy shit,” he wheezed. “You’re _emo_.”

Ae pouted. “You’re one to talk. You’re wearing a fucking Revenge shirt, and you _just_ told me you _sobbed in the Musain_ in _red eyeliner_.”

“I’m a poor, depressed artist who ran away from his abusive parents. Of course I’m emo,” he said. “The only emo stereotypes I can fit into you is an interest in social justice.”

Enjolras snorted. “Don’t forget the shitty parents,” ae mumbled. “Anyway,” ae quickly said, “haven’t you seen my wardrobe? It’s practically filled with various shades of black.” Ae perked up. “And my pea coat! The black pea coat with the white stripes! Does that not remind you of anything?”

“Oh my god,” Grantaire whispered as realization dawned on him. Enjolras had a coat that looked like the _Black Parade_ jackets. “I can’t believe you just out-emoed me.”

Enjolras gave Grantaire aers most serious gaze. “My favorite color is black and I usually use monochrome colors with a bit of red. I frequently use leather jackets and eyeliner. _I have MCR lyrics tattooed on me_. I still have the scars from my lip and nose piercings. I am fucking emo.”

“Holy shit,” Grantaire whispered. “Did you go through a scene phase?”

Enjolras cringed. “We don’t talk about that.”

Grantaire grimaced in sympathy, remembering the first time he got his hands on hair dye.

“Anyway,” ae cleared aers throat, “you’re taking a hiatus?”

He blinked. He didn’t think Enjolras would pay attention to any of his posts. “Uh, yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve been having… art block, I guess. Jehan suggested I take a hiatus, so I did.”

Enjolras nodded. They both knew that wasn’t the reason Grantaire had stated in his post. “If you ever want to talk about it…”

“I don’t,” Grantaire said, clearly. “I don’t. Sorry.”

“No, no, it’s fine, you don’t owe me an explanation anyway,” ae said, shaking his head slightly. “But, uh, I’m sorry for whatever you’re going through and I hope it gets better soon?” ae offered, unsure.

He smiled wryly. “Sympathy accepted.”

They were both silent now, and it was getting awkward. Very awkward. The rare friendly moment they shared earlier was gone, and in its place was just a horrible, uncomfortable silence. “So,” he said, desperate for anything to make it more… normal. But without the arguments. “You not going to visit your parents this year?”

Enjolras grimaced. “They’re going to meet me up for dinner in that fancy restaurant down the street, which must be _a lot_ of fun.” Ae sighed and ran aers hand through aers hair. “I don’t really mind the no-binding thing, and I can probably get away with using pants, but I just…” Ae exhaled, head and shoulders dropping. “I don’t want to talk to them. Preferably for the rest of my life.”

And that was a feeling Grantaire could _really_ relate to. “I know how that feels,” he whispered. He inhaled and straightened up. “How long is this thing going to take, exactly? It’s just a dinner, and then you can go, right? It’s not like you were planning to have a midnight party or whatever with them?”

“Yeah, just dinner,” ae said. “But they can talk for _hours_. I’m not sure I can stand that level of bigotry for that long.”

Grantaire frowned. “I could give you a fake call, if you want? Or you could, like, sneak into the toilet and come back saying you received a call while in the stall about Combeferre or Courfeyrac getting into an accident, or something.”

“I guess the latter would work,” Enjolras said slowly. “Do you mind if I use your name, though? They know Ferre and Courf’s families, after all.”

“Go ahead,” he said, gesturing. “This is your chance to achieve a peaceful state of the world with me being dead, or at least _nearly_ dead.”

Ae frowned. “I don’t wish you to be dead. I never do.”

Grantaire blinked. Right. Enjolras probably didn’t take to those kinds of jokes lightly.

“Grantaire, if I ever did anything to make you-“

“Forget it,” he said. “It’s fine. I probably shouldn’t joke about my own death, anyway.”

Enjolras frowned deeper but he slowly leaned back into his seat, anyway. “If you say so,” ae said carefully, eyes narrowing almost comically.

“Anyway,” Grantaire said, standing up, “are the dishes done? If yes, I’ll be leaving.”

“Yeah, the others helped out before they left, don’t worry,” ae answered. “But, uh,” ae started, before Grantaire could even move towards the door. “Do you want to, like, get lunch together with Feuilly? You know, a Christmas thing?”

“Oh,” Grantaire blinked. He hadn’t been expecting that one. A part of his mind was immediately suspicious of why Enjolras suddenly wanted to spend more time with him, but a bigger part just didn’t want to spend another Christmas alone, and being able to spend more time with Enjolras was something he could never really turn down. Maybe that was why ae invited him and Feuilly for lunch in the first place; ae didn’t want to be alone by aerself. “Sure? I guess? But I’ll have to go back to my place first to drop off my presents and change into something more uplifting than a MCR shirt, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course not,” Enjolras stood up, grabbed their glasses, and walked into the kitchen to place them in the sink. “Just let me bind first,” ae flashed a smile before disappearing into aers room.

Grantaire looked around for his present from the ABC this year. He was thankful he at least didn’t have to search for twelve separate gifts. Combeferre proposed the idea of everyone just putting their – wrapped – presents for the same person in one big box to make everything easier. The box for Combeferre was taken care of by Jehan, and always came with a little too many pressed flowers (which, if brought up to vir, would be deflected with “Nonsense. There is no such thing as too many flowers.”). Combeferre never said a word about it, though, and accepted the box with over-the-top decoration.

He found the box behind the kitchen counter. He opened it to make sure the contents were still okay – wristwarmers from Feuilly which he eagerly put on, a handmade book of Grantaire’s favorite recipes and a few more from Eponine, an advice book written by an astronaut from Combeferre, several books on Monet, Van Gogh, and Impressionist works from Enjolras because ae only knew that he liked Impressionism, a signed physical copy of _Pretty. Odd._ from Bahorel that Grantaire may or may not have cried over, a makeup set from Courfeyrac, and, his absolute favorite, a 36-piece copic marker set from Jehan and Montparnasse. He smiled and shut the box, lifting it and walking to the living room area where Enjolras, in the black pea coat and scarf, frowning at aers phone.

“What’s wrong?” Grantaire questioned, resting the box on his hip.

“No, nothing, don’t worry,” ae said, stuffing the phone into aers pocket. “Just Courfeyrac.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “Anyway, have you called Feuilly? Hirs lunch break might not be long enough.”

“Oh yeah,” Enjolras whispered before grabbing his phone again while walking towards the door. Grantaire followed aer into aers car, where ae tossed him the car keys from the passenger seat. “Feuilly,” ae said, in aers signature style that Grantaire couldn’t help associate with the common holier-than-thou tone. “Are you free for lunch? Me and Grantaire were thinking the three of us could eat together, if your schedule is okay.”

Grantaire started up the engine and drove out of the parking space as Enjolras is finishing up aers call with Feuilly. Once ae set aers phone down, Grantaire asked, “So? Can ze make it?”

Ae crossed aers arms and said, “Unfortunately not. Hirs break is going to be a bit late and probably wouldn’t be long enough to join us since the place is so crowded. I would say we go to where ze’s working but…”

“Ze’s already strictly told us to stay away from the place,” Grantaire said. “So where are we going now? As much as I like the idea of just driving around after we make a stop at my place, I _would_ like some food inside me. Preferably soon.”

Enjolras looked thoughtful. “Courfeyrac said you knew the best places for everything.”

“I guess you can say that.”

Ae narrowed aers eyes. “Take us to the best place for salad.”

“ _Salad_?” Grantaire repeated incredulously. He tried to remember the last time he ate a bowl of salad in a place that wasn’t the triumvirate’s.

“Yes,” Enjolras responded. “Salad. To fulfill my vegetarian desires.”

“Jesus Christ,” he mumbled. He turned right towards his studio, a place in mind. “Okay. Just don’t get your hopes up too high.”

\--  


Grantaire couldn’t help it. He couldn’t resist the urge to check on his last post on his art blog, and opened it just to see how people were reacting to his hiatus. He had gotten a lot more notes than he expected. Considering it had only been a day, 300 notes wasn’t bad at all. There were some asks sent to his inbox, as well.

He scrolled down his ‘Activity’ page and stared at all the different blogs that had reblogged his announcement and left their own comments in their tags or the post itself. Most of them were just the general ‘#aw man :(‘ but some people had also written ‘#whatever ur going thru I hope u’ll feel better soon’ ‘#im gonna miss his art on my dash damn’ and even went on an explanation on how Grantaire had inspired them and that he was their favorite artist. He didn’t even realize his mouth turning into the widest smile he’d ever done in the whole year.

He also saw some of the ABC reblog it as well and thought of how no one had brought it up to him, aside from Enjolras. Maybe Jehan had warned them off from asking him? Either way, he was grateful for the lack of various frantic messages saying “OH NO BBY R (haha) U OK” exploding in his phone.

He went further down and read all of the tags his followers had left, his cheeks hurting from grinning so hard. It faltered when he saw Enjolras’ personal blog in the list.

Grantaire frowned as he continued scrolling down only to see more listed reblogs from aer. It looked like ae reblogged nearly all of his works – some of them, the ones inspired by the ABC and their works, even went to aers social justice blog. They were all tagged under his art tag in aers blog – Enjolras had a tag for each ABC member and their creations, including one for Gavroche and Azelma, and another for Montparnasse – and a few of them were also tagged under ‘#favourites’.

Grantaire stared, baffled. He also felt as if he should apologize to aers followers for the sudden art spam.

A part of him was definitely happy to see that Enjolras actually noticed his work and actually _liked_ it. Ae even went as far as to reblog _nearly every single one of his posts_ , and it looked like some of aers followers liked it, too. His talent definitely felt validated by that, but another part of him was confused and wary. Why did Enjolras suddenly decide to reblog _nearly every single one of his posts, Jesus Christ_ ? Ae _had_ reblogged his works before, of course, but never to this extent. Grantaire felt almost scared and wondered what the hell it meant.

His phone rang. The caller ID said the caller was Jehan. Grantaire picked up and greeted with his customary “’Ello?”

“Grantaire!” vys voice rang in his ears. “Sorry I couldn’t call earlier; you know how shitty reception is here.”

He smiled. “It’s fine,” he said, resting his head on his free hand. “How’s the family? Are they taking onto Montparnasse well enough?”

Jehan sighed vys tired-but-happy sigh. “Wonderful, as always, though they’re especially excitable this year. They’re all pretty accepting of him, but no one likes him like Gramma does. Gramma _loves_ ‘Parnasse, and that sentiment is definitely returned.

“She’s already given him as many protection spells as the rest of us. His pockets are _filled_ with various jar spells and charm bags. I’m beginning to worry Gramma will run out of jars and ingredients soon. He has an exceptionally large amount of acorn and basil on him.”

“But that’s a good thing.” Grantaire smiled before continuing. “Your Gramma only does that to people she knows will stick around.”

There was a pause where he could see ve smiling. “Yeah,” ve said, sounding unbelievably happy. “Yeah, she does.”

“Pretend I’m there elbowing you, okay? Where’s ‘Parnasse? Ask him to do it for me.”

Jehan huffed, but he could tell ve was still grinning. “Oh, Gramma also has a spell for you. I’m not sure what it does. She said it’s for good luck, but I feel like there’s more to it. I’m not very good with herbs, though, so I can’t really tell. It’s definitely not a curse, though, so no need to worry.”

“Tell your Gramma thank you for me,” he said, staring at the charmed bracelet Jehan and vys Gramma had given him, complete with a sigil. “Man, I miss her. She’s such a joy to be around.”

“Oh, she’d _love_ to hear that. I’ll pass it on.” There was slight shuffling from the other end and Jehan cleared vys throat. “Anyway, enough about me. How’s your Christmas so far?”

“Oh, the usual, praising our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, worshipping God…”

Jehan snorted. Everyone who knew Grantaire was aware he was atheist. He was pretty up front about it. “But no, really,” ve said, giggling, “have you done anything today? Did you do anything for lunch?”

Grantaire scratched his head. “I ate lunch with Enjolras?” he offered. “Ae suddenly asked and invited Feuilly, too, but ze couldn’t do it because of hirs work, so it was just the two of us. We ate at that sandwich place, from two weeks ago? The one with the cheese bread?” Jehan hummed in acknowledgement. “Yeah, we ate there. He asked me to take us to the best place for _salad_ and that was the only place I could think of. I’d say I was pretty right. We shared two of their salads and it was pretty good.”

“That sounds delightful,” ve said while keeping a casual tone, despite the fact that Grantaire _knew_ ve would be brimming with joy and taking vys turn to elbow him. “Is ae still with you?”

“Nah, ae went back to aers apartment after dropping me off at mine,” he answered. “And then I checked my Tumblr activity and found out ae pretty much reblogged all my posts.”

“…What?”

“I am not joking,” Grantaire said, taking another look at his laptop screen. A long list of Enjolras’ icons stared back at him. “I mean. I’m kind of happy, since ae has a lot of followers and it could get my art out more, but it also scares me at the same time?”

“Why are you scared?”

“Well, first off,” he started, “what the fuck does that mean? Why the fuck did ae suddenly reblog all my stuff? What does ae want?” He took a deep breath. “And honestly, it’s kind of making me anxious? Because getting that much attention feels really uncomfortable and kind of creepy? And it’s like… ae’s expecting something from me, like more art, but I _can’t_ give that, not right now, and probably not for awhile.

“And there’s the thing about more people seeing my art. It’s a good thing, sure, but… what if they don’t like it? What if they _do_ like it then open my blog only to be disappointed by the hiatus announcement? What if I never come back from my hiatus? Then those who haven’t left me and still follow me would be so disappointed, and I really, really don’t want to disappoint people. At least not that many, not at that scale. I know it’s inevitable I’ll disappoint _some_ people, especially you guys.”

“You’re not disappointing any of us,” Jehan said, “and especially not with your art. Your art is amazing, and I’m sure aers followers would appreciate seeing some of yours on their dash.” Grantaire didn’t really believe it, but he accepted it. “And also, even if you _do_ decide not to return, I’m sure your followers will understand. Have you gotten any hate for the hiatus announcement?”

“No,” he answered reluctantly, remembering all the positive things they’ve said.

“Tumblr _is_ quite an accepting community,” ve said, obviously smiling. “A bigger portion of it, anyway.” There was a beat of silence. “You should probably talk to aer about it,” ve continued, vys tone serious. “It’s pretty obvious what ae did is making you uncomfortable, and, to be honest, it _is_ quite creepy. Are you going to meet aer again soon?”

Grantaire sighed. “Not sure, probably not,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I mean, we’ve already ate lunch together. By the way, why didn’t you wake me up when you left? I feel like a terrible friend now.”

He knew his topic diversion couldn’t be more obvious, but ve let it past anyway with a sigh. “You just seemed so adorable sleeping, none of us had the heart to disturb you. You might want to prepare yourself for Courf and ‘Rel sending pictures of you in the group chat, though,” ve said. “Although, all of us saw you, so it’s quite pointless, really.”

“Of course they would,” he huffed.

“ _There_ you are _._ ” There was the sound of shuffling and a few inaudible words. Apparently, Montparnasse had joined in on the call, although his voice was faint. “I’ve been looking for you. Is that Grantaire?”

“Yeah,” Jehan said, sounding giddy. “Say hi, the two of you.”

“Hello, Montparnasse, dear,” Grantaire said, impersonating Jehan’s Gramma.

“Oh my god,” he said. “Hi, Gramma.”

“Don’t mock my Gramma!”

“I’m not!” Grantaire said. “I only did that because I love her. Pass that on to her for me, by the way, thanks.” He shifted his position on his floor. “Yo, ‘Parnasse, what spells have you gotten from Gramma?”

“A lot,” he answered. “A lot. I’m actually not sure what all of them do, but they look cool and fit my aesthetic, so I’m taking it. Also, how can you say no to someone like her?”

“I know! Jehan, you have, like, the _coolest_ grandma ever.”

“Oh, she’d be delighted by that one,” ve said. “Anyway, why were you looking for me?”

“Your mom was calling,” Montparnasse said. “She said it’s not too important, though, so we can stay like this for just a bit more.”

“Are the two of you cuddling?” Grantaire asked.

“Of course.”

“Unashamedly so.”

Grantaire sighed.

“Aw, baby, you know you’d be welcome to join us if you were here as well,” Jehan cooed.

“Yeah,” Montparnasse said. “Well, I wouldn’t cuddle you just yet, but you’re definitely welcome.”

“Thanks,” Grantaire responded dryly. “Anyway, the two of you go do your cuddling on your own,” he said. “I actually have shit to do. Say hi to your mom and dad for me, Jehan.”

“Already?” ve asked. Grantaire could practically hear vys pout. Ve sighed. “Fine,” ve said, not unlike a petulant child. “And I will, don’t worry. Talk to you later?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “Oh, and, Montparnasse? Watch out for the aunt with the obnoxious, terribly dyed hairdo and the greasy-looking white cousin.”

“Sweet Christ,” Montparnasse mumbled. “Thank you. See you, Grand R.”

“Good luck,” Grantaire said before hanging up. He set his phone down and rested his head on the wall. He crawled towards his mattress and grabs his sketchbook and the copic marker set Jehan and vys boyfriend had given him from the open gift box. He placed it beside him and grabbed the nearest lying pencil. He opened the sketchbook onto an empty page. His hand hesitated for a moment above the page, then the tip of the lead touched the paper and everything seemed to flow from there. It was like the weight that had been settling in his mind had been lifted away, and his art started to _work_ again.

When the outline of the final image was done, Grantaire stretched his back and hands, groaning when his joints cricked.  He lied down onto his pillow with his hands behind his head and sighed. He didn’t actually get much done, but it was _something_.

He laid there for a few moments more before reaching for his phone. He unlocked it and raised an eyebrow when he saw the notifications from a group chat with Enjolras and Feuilly.

 **Feuilly:** hey guys

 **Feuilly:** wanna have like a sleepover or smthg

 **Enjolras:** Please. I’m going to have to refresh my brain after meeting with my parents

 **Feuilly:** oh man

 **Feuilly:** good luck

 **Feuilly:** if you get into trouble tonight im not gonna bust you out

 **Enjolras:** Thank you for the faith you’ve put in me. I really appreciate it

 **Feuilly:** anytime

 **Feuilly:** wheres grantaire

 **Feuilly:** oi r u wanna join or nah

 **You:** hello people

 **You:** good to know ive been missed

 **Feuilly:** don’t flatter yourself too much there

 **You:** oh shush let me have this quiet moment of glory with myself

 **You:** anyway yes I am down for a sleepover ill even cook for this as long as im not the one shopping for them

 **Feuilly:** you lazy ass

 **Feuilly:** what do you need

 **You:** do any of you want anything

 **Enjolras:** Eggs. I want eggs. We have eggs

 **You:** nice wbu feuilly

 **Feuilly:** i’ll just get some instant rice for those eggs. do any of you want some

 **You:** ill pass

 **Enjolras:** Same here

 **Feuilly:** suit yourself then

 **You:** yo enj is your pantry full

 **Enjolras:** I guess you could say that

 **You:** …that’ll work I guess

 **You:** as long as there’s milk?

 **Enjolras:** I might have to do a quick run for that

 **You:** please do

 **You:** do you have bread

 **Enjolras:** Of course we do who do you think we are

 **You:** right of course sorry for doubting the presence of your bread

 **Feuilly:** wait aren’t you eating dinner with your parents

 **Enjolras:** The restaurant is the “for the flavor” type, which is absolutely ridiculous

 **Feuilly:** oh THOSE kinds of bullshit restos

 **Enjolras:** Yep

 **Feuilly:** good luck

 

Grantaire went back to check his other messages. There were a few from Jehan with pictures of the scenery there and vys Gramma with Montparnasse. Ve hadn’t been joking when ve said Montparnasse had _a lot_ of jar spells. There were several sticking out from his pockets, and one was even used as a pendant. It did fit his mysterious-and-dark aesthetic, though.

Most of his notifications came from the ABC group chat, where Courfeyrac, unsurprisingly, sent the pictures of Grantaire sleeping. He cringed.

 

 **Courfeyrac:** GUYS !!!! LOOK AT HOW CUTE HE IS !!!!!! LOOK AT OUR SWEET LIL BOY

 **Marius:** Grantaire looks cute there and all but should we really be talking about this??

 **Courfeyrac:** shh marius just admire how cute he looks there

 **Cosette:** Boys have cooties but he’s a cutie

 **Eponine:** i cnt believe u just said tht

 **Bahorel:** DAT BOI!!!!!!

 **Courfeyrac:** OH SHIT WHADDUP

 **Combeferre:** It’s ‘o shit waddup’,  Courf, not ‘oh shit whaddup’.

 **Combeferre:** But anyway, I agree, Grantaire does look very cute there.

 **Courfeyrac:** shhhhhhhhhhh

 **Courfeyrac:** who are you to dictate how i do my memes

 **Enjolras:** Christ

 **Courfeyrac:** (eyes emoji)

 **Enjolras:** Courf, no,

 

Grantaire stared at his phone screen and blinked a few times. It made him wonder why he was friends with them all, but he couldn’t help the growing grin on his face.

 

 **Musichetta:** HIS NOSE AAAAAAA

 **Bossuet:** R ur hair looks so nice there wtf how

 **Bahorel:** Bossuet u don’t have hair

 **Bossuet:** shh dont remind me

 **Joly:** you look kinda pale u ok ?? @ r

 **Joly:** ut u got a well nights sleep right

 **Joly:** @ enj n feuilly did u feed him right

 **Enjolras:** I gave him aspirin, coffee, and made sure he ate lunch. It was a sandwich

 **Courfeyrac:** (EYES EMOJI) (EYES EMOJI)

 

And Grantaire decided not to delve deeper into _that_.

 

 **Joly:** ure doing the lords work thank you

 **Enjolras:** Courf, No,

 **Enjolras:** You’re welcome

 **Musichetta:** (eyes emoji)

 **Enjolras:** …chetta what do you know

 

Or _that_.

 

 **Marius:** wait hold on is that my gift box in the background?

 **Bahorel:** RUN MARIUS RUN

 **Feuilly:** i’ve left it with your landlord already

 **Marius:** oh okay thank you so much

 **Feuilly:** no problem

 **You:** guys what the fuck

 **You:** you do know im here and can see you all fawning over a picture of my sleeping form?

 **Jehan:** IM LATE BUT OH MY GOSH YOU LOOK SO CUTE IM SAVING THIS

 **You:** oh my god

 **Jehan:** parnasse says you look very soft by the way

 **Jehan:** you probably dont want to hear his simile

 **You:** okay

 **You:** thanks?

 **Bahorel:** how come montparnAss gets a thanks and we don’t

 **Cosette:** This isn’t fair. I basically said I’d go straight for you

 **Cosette:** My pure, lesbian heart feels betrayed, Grantaire

 **Eponine:** watch out ur gay is showing

 **Cosette:** Honey it’s been showing since I made out with you at Courf’s party two years ago

**Courfeyrac** _sent a picture_

 

It was a blurry picture of Cosette and Eponine making out against the triumvirate’s kitchen wall, their hands all over each other and their hair a mess. Grantaire smiled a bit at the picture. The two of them had grown so much as a couple, and they were happy with each other.

 

 **You:** aw look at them being gay and happy with each other making out on the wall

 **You:** (altho courf how do you even find pictures that fast???)

 **You:** but anyway yes thank you to all of you as well your kind words touched my poor lonely soul

 **Eponine:** oh look its us being gay together

 **Cosette:** Whoa we really went for it

 **Bahorel:** you really did. it was kind of scary

 **Eponine:** fear the lesbians.

 **Musichetta:** MY GAY BABIES !!! LOOK AT THEM BEING GAY TOGETHER !!!! AAAAA

 **Musichetta:** also Bossuet nd joly asks how Does courf find pics that fast @ enj nd ferre enlighten us

 **Combeferre:** His thumb moves very rapidly. It’s very impressive but terrifying at the same time.

 **Enjolras:** It’s almost inhuman

 **Combeferre:** It’s like the bullet shrimp’s claw. It’s incredibly fast and deadly.

 **Musichetta:** …right never gonna ask abt that again

 **Musichetta:** wait jolys asking how courf’s thumb joints are doing

 **Courfeyrac:** theyre doing great and theyre basking in glory rn thank you

 

Grantaire smiled and checked on his other messages. A lot of them were simple “Merry Christmas!” from acquaintances from all over town, but the only ones he paid attention to were the messages from the ABC. He read all of them and answered all of them with a small smile on his face.

  
\--

 

Grantaire opened the door to the triumvirate’s apartment after preparing himself to confront Enjolras and promptly froze when he saw aer in aers formal clothing – though without the usual suit and with a black ribbon by aers collar – sat on the sofa, staring blankly. Aers blond curls were oddly unkempt, and the first few buttons of aers shirt were undone. Ae was leaning forwards, his elbows on his knees and hands covering aers mouth.

Unless he got something wrong, ae was still supposed to be at dinner with aers parents instead of sitting in aers apartment. He blinked, then slowly walked in and shut the door.

“Hey,” he said, taking off his shoes and walking over towards aer. “Aren’t you supposed to be eating with your parents?” He frowned.

“I was,” Enjolras said, sounding incredibly tired. “Then I couldn’t take it anymore and just ran.”

Grantaire was taken aback. He sat down on the other side of the couch, in case Enjolras wanted some personal space. Ae wasn’t exactly the type to run away from aers problems. Grantaire had seen aer stage protests and run back to riots (much to everyone’s exasperation) to many times to count. He knew from the stories that couldn’t be the same when it came to aers parents, but it still came as a surprise to him.

He leaned back on the sofa and raised his eyebrows. “Did you actually just run right out of there without saying a word, or…?”

Enjolras let out an amused huff. “Of course not. I went to the restroom, then when I went back, I lied and said I got a call from the hospital about you getting injured. Sorry about that, by the way, I hope you don’t mind. You’re the Amis that my parents know the least about, and there isn’t a chance in hell they know your parents, so…”

“Oh, no, I don’t mind,” he said. Grantaire wasn’t sure if he should be happy or hurt aers parents knew practically nothing about his existence, then he thought of the idea of Enjolras’ parents, who were rich, powerful, and absolute bigots, knowing him and decided he should be happy.

“What happened, though?” he asked, looking over at Enjolras. Ae seemed uncomfortable and Grantaire quickly added, “Only if you want to, of course.”

Ae sighed and closed his eyes, looking incredibly tired, dropping aers hands. “They were as usual, I guess. Still bigoted and absolutely disgusting. Always talking about money and business. Asking about grades and shit like that.” Ae smirked self-deprecatingly, and it was such an odd expression on aer that Grantaire felt physically unsettled by it. “I bet they don’t even care about me,” ae continued bitterly. “They only care about what I’ve achieved in my job and in uni so they can brag to their friends like I’m something they brought to show and tell.

“I couldn’t even talk about what I _really_ achieved this year with the ABC. They’ll just start talking about how useless our entire group is.” Enjolras tilted aers head towards Grantaire slightly. “You, at least, agree with our causes, just not with our methods. They think everything we stand for is absolutely ridiculous and still thinks I’ll ‘grow out of it’.” Ae huffed. “Can you believe that shit? I’m ashamed to even be related to them.”

“Jesus Christ,” Grantaire muttered. “They sound like a pile of absolute filth.”

Ae let out a breath of laughter. “They are.”

An odd silence fell upon them, so different from the afternoon they spent together. No one said anything, but Grantaire could feel that that wasn’t all of Enjolras’ troubles.

“I have a feeling that’s not the only thing bothering you,” he said, slowly.

“You caught me.” Enjolras took a deep breath and leaned back onto the couch, attempting to make aerself seem more casual, though aer was still extremely tense. Ae stared up at the ceiling and kept aers gaze trained there. “My parents met a friend there.” Ae paused. “They introduced me to their friend, of course. Who brought their son.”

“Oh, Christ,” Grantaire whispered, knowing exactly where this was going.

Aers sad smile was back on aers face. “They kept praising him. Making me talk to him, even though we both clearly didn’t want to. Kept saying how good we looked together.” Ae scoffed. “That wasn’t even the worst thing they did. When we returned to our own table, you know what they told me? They said the only thing a girl needs in the long run is a good husband.”

Grantaire was frowning so deep, his eyebrows hurt. Everything about that statement was just so, so wrong. It was _wrong_.

Enjolras glanced at him, and smiled a bit. “I know, right?” ae said. “That has got to be one of the most misogynistic things I’ve heard in awhile.”

When ae didn’t continue it with anything else, Grantaire said, almost angrily, “And you’re not a girl.” The misgendering was the worst part of the statement, and the fact it wasn’t the first wrong thing Enjolras pointed out disturbed Grantaire.

“And I’m not a girl,” Enjolras agreed quietly.

He closed his eyes and took deep breaths. Comforting people required him to be calm. Grantaire had to be calm.

“Did you tell them you aren’t interested in him?” he asked. He wasn’t sure if that was the right thing to ask.

“I wanted to,” ae said, aers hand playing with the corner of a pillow nearby. “But if I did, they’d probably keep convincing me that he’s a wonderful person, and he is, but he’s not…” Ae sighed again. “He’s not the type of person I’m looking for. And I’m just too tired to say that to my parents.”

Sometimes Grantaire forgot how similar they were when it came to parents. Difference was, Grantaire ran away because of his cowardice and had to live through the consequences - an almost always empty wallet, constant worry for his siblings, and a crushing guilt for leaving them. Enjolras still had to face aers parents and put on a smile for them, and ae was at more risk than Grantaire ever was simply because ae’s trans.

“You won’t have to see them for another few months, right?” he asked.

“Yeah,” ae answered. “So there’s that, at least. I just want them to get out of my life permanently.”

Grantaire touched aers shoulder with his fingertips. After ae nodded aers consent, Grantaire properly put his hand on aers shoulder. “I’m really sorry you have to go through this,” he said, rubbing aers shoulder slightly. He wanted to say more, but he didn’t know how to say them. He was _so mad_ that the best people in the world had to have the shittiest lives. He just wanted all of his friends to be able to live happily and in peace. They all deserved so much more.

“Thank you,” Enjolras whispered. Ae groaned before rubbing at aers eyes. “Fuck,” ae muttered.

Grantaire kept rubbing aers shoulder as ae sniffed and wiped aers tears away. He felt bad for being able to see Enjolras so vulnerable - Enjolras, who had always been strong and took no shit from anyone. It was just _wrong_ to see aer so sad, but he couldn’t do anything. 

“Can I hug you?” Enjolras asked meekly. Grantaire was taken aback for a moment, but said, “Sure,” and opened up his arms. Ae wrapped aers arms around his ribs, aers hands joined together in the middle of his back. Grantaire enveloped aer and held aer gently, like he couldn’t believe he was actually being allowed to do so. Ae put aers head on his shoulder and tried to keep silent as aer sobbed.

He could feel aers tears soaking through his shirt, and his heart clenched. Ae should never be sad. Ae was such a good person that it was unfair if the world made aer sad.

“Y’know,” he said, hoping he wouldn’t make anything worse. “I’m pretty sure you’ll be able to. Get away from your parents, I mean.”

Enjolras scoffed. “What is this sudden burst of optimism?”

“A Christmas miracle,” he answered drily. 

Ae laughed a little at that, and Grantaire couldn’t help feeling a little proud.

They held each other like that for a few moments, before Enjolras pulled back, wiping at his face. “I think that way because,” Grantaire said before ae could say anything. Ae looked at him. He swallowed, and repeated himself. “I think that way because you’re too kind and you’ve given the world so many things, it just didn’t make sense if the world doesn’t at least give you that.” If the world gave Grantaire an escape from his parents, then he was sure it could get Enjolras that, too.

Ae looked at him in pleasant surprise. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” he said. _Anything for you._ “Now. D’you want some Christmas eggs?”

Enjolras smiled weakly with aers red-rimmed eyes. That would be great.”

He returned the smile with a brighter one and walked towards the kitchen, switching on the lights. “How do you want it?” he asked and opened the fridge door, grabbing a few eggs.

Enjolras stood by the doorway and peeked inside. “Make yours first, I’m going to take a shower and change,” ae said. “But if you finish cooking yours before I’m done, then a sunny side up would be nice.”

“Oh boy,” Grantaire said, cracking his knuckles and grabbing the frying pan and some oil. “Do you want a runny yolk?”

Aer raised his eyebrows. “If you can.”

“I accept thy challenge,” he said, smirking. “Thou shalt witness this culinary magic o’ mine.”

“Watch out, you’ll get sent to court for the witch trials,” Enjolras said drily.

Grantaire grabbed a bowl and cracked two eggs into it for himself. “Nah, I’ll live,” he said, evening it out. “Not just because I’m a man, and thus more privileged, but also because I’ll have either you, Bossuet, Bahorel, Courfeyrac, or even Marius as my lawyer. Or all of you at once. With that many lawyer friends, it’ll be a shame not to make use of your services once in awhile.”

“Nevermind, you could just talk the guards’ ears off.” Grantaire grinned in response. “Anyway,” Enjolras continued, “I’m going to go take that shower now. You know where all the things are, and, _oh_ , wear an apron, Combeferre will kill you if you don’t.”

“They’re not here.”

“They will know,” Enjolras said ominously. “Trust me.”

Grantaire blinked, took an apron out of the drawer, and put it on. It was the frilly one with flowers on it that was usually worn by Combeferre. Enjolras nodded and disappeared. He shrugged and grabbed a fork and whisked his eggs.

In the middle of him absently cooking his omelette (with ham he brought himself, because he felt bad about using the triumvirate’s ingredients already), Feuilly entered the flat with a loud, tired sigh and the _thump_ of hirs bag hitting the floor, or hirs body on the couch.

“Hi there,” Grantaire called out, poking the omelette then flipping them. “How do you want your eggs?”

“Scrambled,” ze answered, hir voice muffled by the cushion. “Can you prep the rice for me too?” Ze let out another sigh. “Sorry, I’m just really tired.”

“It’s fine,” he said, placing his cooked omelette on a plate. He turned the heat off and walked over to the living room, where Feuilly was lying face first on the couch, hirs jacket still on. Hirs black hair was messy, and hirs hands were icy blue.

“Jesus Christ,” Grantaire said. “You didn’t wear gloves again, did you.”

Feuilly answered with an exhale.

Grantaire let out his own sigh. He dug into the pocket of his hoodie and put in hirs hands. “Wear mine until they warm up,” he said, crouching down to open hirs bag and get the pack of instant rice. He smiled at Feuilly as he stood up, seeing that ze has worn the gloves, which, ironically, ze knit. He walked back to the kitchen and prepared the rice and grabbed another two eggs.

As he was pouring the milk into the egg, Enjolras walked in, aers hair wet. Aer was in a loose black sweater and sweatpants and was peeking over Grantaire’s shoulder. “That’s for Feuilly?” ae asked.

“Yeah,” Grantaire answered stirring the mixture. “Yours will have to wait, sorry. Can you check on the rice, by the way?”

“Sure,” ae answered, heading over to where the instant rice was sitting in a bowl of hot water. “It should be done soon,” ae said before looking around and grabbing some bread. Ae stared at the half- finished baguette stick. “Think we can finish this?”

Grantaire poured the mixture onto the oiled pan and took a look at it. “Definitely,” he said and turned back to the pan. “We’re French, man.” He stirred the egg when the edges were cooked. “Or at least we’ve developed French habits. Point is, we eat a lot of bread. It actually makes me wonder how the three of you keep a steady supply of it when nearly everyone in the ABC goes to your place and Cosette’s for bread. And also considering we have Bahorel and Gavroche, who eats an entire stick during a movie instead of popcorn.”

Enjolras shrugged. “We know a place. Also, Monsieur Valjean gives us a lot of his homemade bread nearly every week. He always says he bought too many ingredients and decided to share them with us. I suspect that’s one of his ways to make sure his daughter is eating properly.”

Grantaire snorted. “Out of all of us, Cosette is probably the only one that eats properly. Now I see why.” He stirs the eggs around a bit while Enjolras cuts up the bread. It felt… domestic, somehow. As if they had always lived together and prepared food together. Grantaire’s heart ached slightly but he continued on.

“Can you pass me the rice?” he asked, when it was done. He placed the scrambled eggs on top of the cooked rice and grabbed some his leftover ham, shredded them, then tossed them into the pan to heat them up slightly before putting it on top of the eggs. “Done,” he said, satisfied.

“I’ll take it to hir.” Enjolras sent a short, tentative smile before walking out of the kitchen with the bowl. Grantaire blinked, and went back to the pan.

  
\--

“Okay, I have to admit,” Enjolras said, waving around aers hands with a piece of bread in one, “those eggs were pretty damn good. And cooked perfectly.”

Grantaire smirked and took a swig from his bottle – the only one Enjolras allowed him to have today. He had to save it. “Told you so. Don’t underestimate my powers with an egg.”

“That sounds really weird, dude,” Feuilly said from hirs laid out position on the couch behind Grantaire and Enjolras, who were sitting on the floor beside each other. “But you _are_ good at cooking eggs. The eggs you cooked were so good it literally took me back to my days when I was a kid in Japan, though the shape is totally different. It’s kind of weird. Like you have some sort of superpower when it comes to eggs.”

He snorted. “Thanks,” he said and took a bite from the plate on the floor beside him. “I haven’t mastered _every_ egg dish, though. Still working on my devilled eggs with ‘Chetta.”

“I look forward to when they are perfected,” ze said, patting Grantaire’s hair. Ze sat up, and Enjolras and Grantaire scooted away from each other to make some space for hirs legs. “Anyway, can I take Combeferre’s bed? Like,  R, I know you’re close with ‘Ferre and everything, but after last time, I don’t want to touch Courfeyrac’s bed again.”

“Sure, go ahead,” he replied, patting Feuilly’s knee. “G’night, man.”

“Good night,” Enjolras said, aers head resting on the couch cushion and looking up at Feuilly.

“Don’t sleep too late, you two,” ze said, patting their faces as ze stood up. “Be careful not to get too wild. Mama Feuilly will know,” ze stepped over Enjolras’ legs and stretched.

“Yes, mother,” Grantaire said, imitating a young petulant child.

“Good night,” Feuilly said over hirs shoulder. Ze opened up the door to Combeferre’s room and disappeared into the dark.

Enjolras took a bite of aers bread. Grantaire drank from his bottle. The TV kept playing in front of them, showcasing the local news reporting on various Christmas celebrations across the city even though it was, technically, already Boxing Day.

“Uh,” Grantaire said. “Not to ruin the mood or anything, but can I ask you a question?”

Enjolras raised an eyebrow and wiped some of the crumbs off his mouth and hands. “Sure,” ae said, shifting to face Grantaire more properly. Aers knee touched his thigh and Grantaire flinched before relaxing back. “What is it?”

“Well,” he said, staring at his hands and the bottle it was holding. “The other day you reblogged a whole bunch of my art and… I was just wondering what that was about?”

“Oh,” ae said softly. When Grantaire glanced over, ae was blushing and looking away. “I saw your hiatus announcement and you’re my favorite artist, so I decided to look over all your art again and I kind of got… carried away?” Enjolras offered. “And, personally, I think everyone should see your art. A lot of my followers like art and aesthetics and all so I just…” ae made a face. “Promoted you?”

“Carried away,” Grantaire repeated. “You got carried away reblogging my art that until reached my earliest posts.”

“…Pretty much.”

He stared at Enjolras for a moment, then sighed and leaned back on the couch, wiping his face and running his hand through his hair. “I appreciate your love and support, I really do,” he said, staring up at the ceiling. “But it would be great if you could, uhm. Not do that?” He sat up and looked at aer, who was still facing him. “It’s not anything big really, it’s just… It kind of triggers my anxiety and… I’d prefer if you don’t do that. Yeah.”

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” Enjolras said, aers eyes wide and aers hands dangerously close to Grantaire. “I won’t do it again, I promise. I swear. Your art is just… really good, and I couldn’t help reblogging it, you know? It’s amazing.”

Grantaire blinked. “I don’t know, but thanks?” he said. “And it’s fine, I know now why you did that so it’s fine. But, yeah, not doing that again would be great.”

“I won’t,” Enjolras said, aers voice firm like the tone ae would use when delivering a speech. Grantaire’s eyes widened a fracture when he heard it, and his heart paused for a beat.

“Uhm, thanks,” he said, averting his gaze from aer and taking a moment to relish and suffer under the tingling feeling in his fingers, hands and stomach. “Your reblogs got me some more notes though, so, thanks for that too.”

“It wasn’t thanks to me, though,” Enjolras said, frowning. “People reblogged it because your art is amazing, not because _I_ reblogged it.”

“Don’t fight me on this, Apollo,” he said, pointing his bottle towards aer a bit and raising his eyebrow before finishing it. “Not right now, anyway. It’s early morning Boxing Day, I just finished the only bottle I’ll be having tonight. Today? No, tonight. Also, I’ve spent too many emotions on today. Yesterday. Whatever. I need to save some emotion for the rest of the week, y’know? Just accept my gratitude.”

Enjolras scowled. It wasn’t one of aers serious scowls, though. Grantaire was pretty well acquainted with those. “Fine,” ae said petulantly. “You’re welcome. But we’ll talk about this next time.”

“Of course,” Grantaire said, closing his eyes and laying his head on the couch.

They fell into a comfortable silence. He took a deep breath. He was spending more and more time with Enjolras lately, and a lot of times it was aer who initiated them. Grantaire was definitely more than happy to go along with it, but he couldn’t help but ask what the hell was going on between the two of them. They were friends, _that_ Grantaire knew even though it had taken him awhile to believe it.

But whatever was going on, it didn’t _feel_ like they were just friends. It felt like they could be something more. If a few more things fell into place and the time came, they could be something. And Grantaire was scared of that.

 _You're flattering yourself too much_ , a voice said. _Why would ae want to be with you? Look at yourself. You’re worth nothing. You can’t even go a day without attention and affection from your friends. Ae’d get sick of you clinging onto aer immediately. You shouldn’t even dream of being with aer._

“Grantaire?” Enjolras asked. “Is something wrong?”

“Huh?” Grantaire straightened and only realized he was frowning. “No, just- tired, that’s all.” It was as if saying those words suddenly made him realize how tired he really was. His body was moving slowly, and his eyelids were drooping. He yawned and wiped away his frown with his hand.

“Oh gosh, I forgot how late it was,” Enjolras said, aers eyes wide. “Sorry. Do you want to go to sleep now?”

Grantaire hummed his affirmative. “Yeah, probably. You should, too. I know you have some trouble with sleep but you should at least just lie down on your bed and get comfortable.”

Enjolras stretched, aers arms raised above aers head. “Yeah, I will,” ae said. “You go on first.”

Grantaire nodded and stood up, yawning loudly again. He cracked the joints in his back and groaned. “I’m just gonna use your bathroom first, okay?” he asked, already shuffling his feet to head over to the bathroom.

“Go ahead,” ae said, standing up aerself, brushing off his sweatpants. “Did you bring a toothbrush?”

He shook his head. “I’ll live.” He waved it off. He walked into the bathroom and went about washing his face and mouth and relieving his bladder. Shuffling out of the door, he raised a hand at Enjolras and said, “Good night.”

Enjolras smiled softly – as if he wasn’t aware he was doing it – and raised his glass. “Good night.”

Grantaire didn’t move for a moment, staring at Enjolras’ smile before turning around and heading over inside Courfeyrac’s room. He climbed onto the bed with a sigh and settled himself in the midst of the blanket and pillows.

He stared up at the ceiling, his mind slowly a mess of various thoughts of a smile and an almost-touch. As he was falling asleep, he heard the _click_ of Enjolras’ door.

\--  
  


“I don’t know what’s going on,” Grantaire moaned, his hands in his hair. “Ae’s just… so nice and amazing and _willing to spend time with me_ , and I’m just- me. And we’re just spending more and more time together and I don’t know what it _means_. We’ve done things together so often that I think we could be _something_ , and sometimes it even feels like we already _are_ something, but it’s probably just wishful thinking, and it’s frustrating the hell out of me.”

Combeferre fixed their glasses and leaned forward slightly. “Ae acts that way around you and spend more time with you than any of us do with either of you,” they said clearly. The tip of their mouth twitched a little before resuming their inscrutable expression. “I don’t think it’s your wishful thinking.”

Grantaire peeked out from between his hands. “What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

“I think you know exactly what that means,” Courfeyrac said, obviously pleased about something, despite his best efforts to hide it.

“I _don't_ ,” he said, dropping his head onto his crossed arms. “That’s why I’m asking the two of you. Ae must’ve said _something_ to you two, right?”

“Ae did,” Combeferre nodded.

“What?” Grantaire sat up, his eyes wide. “What did ae say?”

Combeferre and Courfeyrac shared a glance. “We can’t say,” Combeferre said. “For privacy reasons, but Enjolras aerself isn’t sure either. But ae will be.”

“But you know what’s going on with aer.”

“It’s kind of obvious to us,” Courfeyrac said. “I mean, the three of us are each other’s oldest friends.”

“And you’re not going to tell me.”

Courfeyrac smiled. “You’ll know soon enough.”

Grantaire groaned. “I just want to know what ae wants from me,” he said. “That way I don’t have to worry about _everything_.”

Combeferre joined in on the grinning. “All you need to know is that aers intentions are nothing bad, and ae doesn’t hate you at all. Quite far from it, actually.” They fixed their glasses.

Grantaire sighed and went back to burying his face in his arms.

\--  
  


Grantaire blinked at his art folder. He had been drawing digitally again recently – nothing too complex, just little sketches, some colors and simple shading, though some were more detailed. Testing the waters to go back to his blog, it could be called.

He had been drawing more and more, especially since the ABC had returned from their Christmas visits and did a rally. As much as Grantaire hated their rallies and thought they were absolutely useless, he always went home high with adrenaline with lines and colors bursting in his mind, his hand itching to hold a pencil or a pen or _anything_ to turn the ideas into drawings. It was absolutely tiring and almost never ended well, but there was something about all the passionate strangers – everyone was so different – who had come together filling the air with their energy and anger. Grantaire couldn’t offer much energy and anger of his own, so he took what the other people gave out generously and used it for himself.

His eyes flit over his newest drawings and he took a deep breath. He opened up Tumblr and stared at the notifications on his inbox. He clicked on the message icon and slowly read all the asks he got – most of them sent by, presumably, several Anons – wishing he’d feel better soon. There was a little hate, but Jehan had trained him to skip over the rest of the text and go straight to the Options button and delete them. Grantaire thanked vys when he deleted the third hate ask he found.

Grantaire brightened up when he found an ask from one of his more loyal followers, until he saw what the ask was about. “ _Hey there_ ,” it said. “ _I know you’re on hiatus right now, but I was wondering if you knew these two blogs: achillesndpatroclus  (their personal blog, not where your art was posted) and equivalentxchangeofelements. They have been stealing your art without credit and without the original captions, either. Forgive me if I’m wrong, but it looks like you didn’t give them permission._ ”

He froze. Thanks to the sender of the ask, he knew who had been stealing his art. He stared at it for a moment, then pressed the Answer button.

After he was done, he typed in the first URL on another tab. He figured the other account was a fan account that would no doubt make him cringe and left that one alone. The blog loaded, and Grantaire immediately frowned when he recognized Bahorel’s icon as the asker in the most recent post.

“ _you removed his watermark, and i know damn well he isn’t dead so it sure as hell isnt 70 years after his death so his art is far from being in public domain. what you did was illegal. remove the posts and apologize_ ,” Bahorel had typed in. Grantaire stared at it with his mouth hanging open.

He skimmed over the response – denial, what else could it be? – and scrolled down. There were more asks from Bahorel in between their reblogs and a few from Enjolras. _Enjolras_. Grantaire was surprised, but, at the same time, not.

He grabbed his phone and dialled Jehan.

“Grantaire?”

“I found the blog of the person who took my art and Bahorel and Enjolras called them out. Is calling them out. I don’t know _when_ they did it, but it happened. Is happening.”

“Oh,” Jehan said. “Well. That’s unsurprising.”

“I know,” Grantaire sighed. “I just… don’t know how to feel about all this?”

He could hear vys shifting. “How do you mean?”

Grantaire lied down on his bed, a hand on his laptop to make sure it stays there. “I mean,” he said, a hand on his forehead, “I’m kind of pissed about the whole art stealing thing, of course, and I probably couldn’t drag the person as well as Bahorel and Enjolras did, but at the same time I feel like they’re treating me like a- a child? Sort of?”

Jehan hummed. “And you want them to stop.”

“Not really?” Grantaire groaned and covered his eyes with his hands. “I mean, I appreciate them calling the thief out for me and all but I told them not to way before. I probably would’ve ended up asking for their help, anyway.”

“No offense, but you wouldn’t.”

“Okay, true.”

“They probably should’ve stayed in their lane, though,” ve said. “You told them not to do anything but they still did it anyway.” Grantaire hummed in response, and Jehan continued. “But you can’t do anything about it now. They’ve called the person out.”

Grantaire took a deep breath. “I guess I’ll talk about it to them,” he allowed. “And I was thinking of confronting the thief myself. What do I say, though? They’re stubborn as hell and didn’t even blink when Bahorel started pulling in law shit.”

“Wow, they sound like a huge asshole,” Jehan said. “Pulling in law shit does not equal threatening with law shit, though. I don’t think you should start the conversation with a threat to sue, but you could always ask them to put it down and remind them what they did is illegal. Being confronted by the artist’s friends and being confronted by the artist you stole from is very different.”

Grantaire considered that. “That’s true,” he said. He sat up and set his phone on speaker – he always forgot how convenient it was – before clicking message. “Okay. I’m going to message them.”

“Good luck,” ve said sincerely. “Now, out of curiosity, what’s this rat’s blog?”

“You’re going to gather receipts, aren’t you.” Grantaire stared at the message box.

“Oh, baby, you know me too well.”

Grantaire let out a breath of laughter and rolled his eyes.

\--  
  


Once the meeting was over, Enjolras shared a glance with Combeferre and Courfeyrac before standing up to walk towards Grantaire. Grantaire, for his part, just finished his bottle and set it aside to prepare himself. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Jehan watching from where ve was sitting with Montparnasse and Bahorel.

“Grantaire,” ae said, a hand on the table Grantaire was sat in. “Can we speak? Alone?” Ae was frowning, but it wasn’t an angry frown or a worried frown. Ae looked more like ae was nervous.

Nervous was an odd look on Enjolras. “Anything for you, Apollo,” he said before standing up and stepping out of the table. He figured he had to speak to aer about the whole art stealing fiasco sooner or later, anyway.

Enjolras walked around the table and grabbed the coat Grantaire had left on the chair next to him. “You forgot this,” ae said, holding the coat out.

“Oh,” Grantaire blinked. “Thanks.” Seeing as Enjolras was using aers own, he grabbed his coat and put it on before grabbing his bag. Enjolras nodded and walked out of the room, Grantaire following behind aer while waving goodbye to their friends.

They walked around the streets in silence for a moment. Grantaire had forgotten to bring his gloves, so he had his hands stuffed in his pockets. He stared at the scene around them, taking it all in. Paris’ beauty never ceased to amaze him.

He felt a nudge and looked down to see Enjolras offering aers gloves. Grantaire looked up and shook his head, even though his hands were still cold. He took out a hand to push the gloves back to aer, but ae used the chance to put it on for him. Grantaire turned to give aer an unimpressed look, but it dropped from his face when he saw how gently Enjolras was smiling at him. He looked down at his now gloved hand – it was soft and still warm from Enjolras’ skin.

“Give me your other hand,” Enjolras said, reaching to grab Grantaire’s left hand.

He dug it deeper into his pocket and shook his head. “No way. You’re wearing that one.”

“Come on, everyone knows I’m like a furnace.”

“That’s why you have to use it,” Grantaire smirked. “You have to keep all the heat in.”

Enjolras rolled aers eyes but put it back on anyway. The easy grin ae had been using on aers face faded away and returned to aers previous nervous expression. Grantaire took a deep breath to steady his beating heart.

They stopped at a nearby garden and took a seat on the slippery bench, cold from the night air. It was where they first started to hang out without the other ABC members, maybe one year ago.

Grantaire replayed the memory in his head – he had been sketching absently on the same bench after a peculiarly bad week when Enjolras suddenly appeared with coffee and lunch for them to share – and thought of all the things they did together. Throughout the year, they got closer and closer, and that showed by how little physical distance they had between them. Their arms were touching, and their knees knocked against each other every so often.

“ _I don’t think it’s your wishful thinking_ ,” Combeferre had said. Grantaire’s breath caught in his throat when he finally realized what they might have meant.

“Actually, I have something to talk to you as well,” Grantaire blurted out, immediately regretting it. He could’ve just waited until Enjolras actually started talking about whatever ae brought them out for.

“Oh?” Enjolras asked, slightly turning to face Grantaire better with aers eyebrows raised. “What is it?”

“No, nevermind, you go first,” he said, trying to get out of it.

“It’s fine, my topic is kind of– uh. It should be left last. Trust me.”

Grantaire looked at aer uncertainly before sighing, causing faint wisps of air to escape from his lips. “Alright, fine.” He fidgeted with his hands. “I saw the asks you and Bahorel sent to the person who stole my art,” he said. He could see aer tensing beside him. 

“I do appreciate it, and the two of you called them out better than I ever could, but I just feel a bit… eh about it,” he said, not knowing how to put what he was feeling into proper words and sentences. It had been easier for him to talk to Bahorel about this. Why was getting this across so hard when it came to Enjolras?

“I told all of you to stay away from it since this is _my_ business. If I had needed help with dragging them, you or Bahorel would be at the top of my list.

“Or one of you could’ve _told_ me what you two were planning on doing first and asked if you could. Granted, I probably wouldn’t allow it, but, well, at least I would’ve had a little bit of warning.”

Enjolras was silent for a moment, aers body still frozen. Grantaire resisted the urge to play with his fingers, run his hand through his hair, do _anything_. His hands were balled up into fists, the left one buried deep in his pocket while the right one was still covered in Enjolras’ glove.

“I’m sorry,” ae finally said, sounding more sincere and more guilty than Grantaire had ever heard. “I’m really, really sorry for what I did and for every other mistake I’ve done. I should’ve asked you about it first, especially since it’s such a personal matter. I won’t do it again.”

Ae drew aerself up and Grantaire looked at aer. Aers frown and black, apologetic eyes stared back at him. “If I ever do anything like this, or any other thing that makes you uncomfortable, please tell me immediately. I don’t want to accidentally mistreat you ever again,” ae said.

Honestly, aers apology sounded like it was copied from a powerpoint presentation on how to apologize after being called out but it was so heartfelt Grantaire couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. “No, no, it’s fine,” he said, hand stopping in the air for a moment before awkwardly patting aers shoulder. “Just, you know,” he continued, “try not to do that again, maybe?”

“I won’t,” Enjolras said. “I promise.”

Grantaire nodded, and looked away, patting his head with his gloved hand. He hesitated for a moment, thought _fuck it_ , and then said, “Another thing.” He took a deep breath, took out his left hand, and held it with his right one. They were shaking. “What exactly are we doing?”

Enjolras was frowning, but ae looked as nervous as Grantaire. “How do you mean?”

He held his hand tighter. “I just…” he sighed and covered his face so that he didn’t have to look at aer. “I want to know what you want from me,” he said quietly. “Why you’re spending so much time with me. So I don’t get my hopes up and end up crashing.”

He had just admitted it. He admitted he loved Enjolras to aer, even if it wasn’t directly. He didn’t exactly hide his feelings for aer, but he never spoke about it to _aer_. He could feel his heart beating everywhere and his face hurt from trying to hide the embarrassment of his shaking hands. He could barely feel them.

Enjolras didn’t answer for a few moments, and Grantaire’s heart beat faster. Then ae cleared aers throat and said, “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Grantaire’s heart dropped. Enjolras was going to tell him that all ae wanted was just to be friends. Maybe ae just didn’t want any bad blood between them. Maybe ae felt uncomfortable with how close they were getting and how obvious Grantaire’s feelings were and decided once and for all to set some boundaries.

“We’ve been spending a lot of time together,” ae started. Grantaire could tell it was going to be a speech and he was going to _die_ of anxiety before Enjolras got to the point. “More than we do with anyone else in the group. And it isn’t a coincidence. We planned nearly all of the time we spent together, and I enjoyed every second we shared. But lately-”

(Ae was going to say he had regretted it. After all, why would ae enjoy being with someone like him? Even if he was considered great company, he was still an asshole and was an absolute mess.

Or what if ae thought his feelings were making aer uncomfortable? They’ve been spending too much time together and his love for Enjolras had never been a lowkey thing. Ae definitely knew, and didn’t like that-)

“Enjolras,” Grantaire cut aer off, his voice shaky. “I’m really sorry, but can you just… get to the point? My anxiety’s kind of through the roof right now.” He was stuttering everywhere, and had to draw random gasps of breath in between words. He couldn’t feel his hands and feet and his head was spinning and it hurt with all the thoughts flying around in his mind. His stomach felt like it was being twisted and ripped apart. His heart was probably going to burst any moment.

“Oh,” Enjolras said, aers eyes wide. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry-”

“It’s fine,” Grantaire whispered. He took a deep breath and held it in for as long as he could. He closed his eyes and exhaled. _Breathing exercises_ , Joly had said. _In, hold it, then out. Again. In, hold it, then out. Again._ He forced himself to sit up straight and stared right in front of him. His hands were probably still shaking, and he took repeated deep breaths. “Just go on, please.”

“...If you say so,” ae said, though ae still looked worried. At least ae knew to follow what Grantaire asked aer to while he was nervous. It took awhile at first because ae kept insisting to help him before continuing.

Enjolras paused for a moment, staring at Grantaire’s eyes. Ae looked nervous. “I’m attracted to you,” ae said, slowly, as if it was the first time ae was admitting it to anyone. Grantaire froze. “I’m really, _really_ attracted to you. I have a crush on you. However you’d like to put it,” ae continued. “And I want to take you out. On a date. As my boyfriend. If you’d like to, that is,” ae added quickly. 

Grantaire wasn’t sure he was hearing right. Just a moment ago, his body was going into overdrive. And then, everything stopped as he sat with his eyes wide open and his mouth slightly open. He couldn’t have heard that properly. There was no way it could be true. How could Enjolras be attracted to him? He was a greasy, lazy, piece of shit artist that was constantly starving and was broke. They had countless arguments - most political, some personal - and they barely spoke to each other except for ABC-related work before last year.

Ae had to be lying, right? There was just no way. Grantaire was the worst person he knew personally while Enjolras was just… Enjolras. Granted, he now knew Enjolras wasn’t as flawless as he first thought ae was after they had spent more and more time together, but ae was still out of his league. _Way_ out of his league. Ae had to be lying. Why would anyone, much less Enjolras, want to take Grantaire out on a date and make him aers boyfriend?

“If you don’t want to, it’s totally fine, and it would be appreciated if we could just pretend this part of the conversation never happened,” ae quickly said, flapping around aers hands. Grantaire realized he had been silent for far too long. “We can just… go home and go on as normal. You don’t have to address my feelings or anything, as long as it doesn’t bother you? I hope?” Ae was frowning worriedly, but there was a hint of sadness in the way the corners of aers lips were turned down and how aers eyes seemed to dim.

“Wait,” Grantaire said, quietly. He was completely still in his shock, but he could still hear his heart beating in his ears. “You’re lying, right? This is some kind of cruel joke, right?” he asked frantically. “There’s not way this is true,” he laughed nervously.

Enjolras looked at him with a wounded expression. “I may be cold sometimes, but I would never lie about this,” ae muttered. Ae drew a breath and exhaled. “I know my feelings and desires, and it’s _you_ , Grantaire, and I want you to believe that. I’ve never felt so intensely for someone before, and I'll understand if you don’t return them, but I’d like you to at least believe it.”

Didn’t return it? Enjolras couldn’t be serious. Grantaire had never been subtle about his feelings. He frowned at aer. “Enjolras, I’ve been in love with you for years now,” he said, in a matter-of-fact way. It was kind of ironic how he could find peace in his love for aer - it was another constant in his life that he hated yet relished in at the same time. Aers eyes went comically wide. He uncurled his fingers from the fist he didn’t realize they were in. He could feel them again. “And yes, you aren’t the type to lie about your feelings but-” he swallowed. “You can’t possibly like me. That’s impossible.”

Determination went into Enjolras’ eyes, but it was a different from the usual ones Grantaire has seen while ae was delivering a speech. This one was more sincere, gentler, more personal. “It’s very possible,” ae said. “It’s very possible and it’s happening right now. I think of you every day, when I wake up, wishing you were the one waking me, when I go to sleep, wishing you were beside me. I want to tell you everything about my day, I want to spend so much time with you, I want to do so many things with you.” Ae straightened up and stared right at Grantaire. “I want to hold your hand and memorize how it feels. I want to know what it feels like to hold you close to my body. I want to be around you and eat meals with you and drink coffee and read and work and do every other thing with you.”

Then, aers voice got quieter. “I want to make you my boyfriend. I want to be able to call you my boyfriend and talk to other people about you as my boyfriend. And I want to be _your_ boyfriend. I want you to believe in all that.”

Grantaire stared at aer in shock, his mind slowly taking every single thing ae said in. His mouth was dry, and he tried to swallow. Enjolras stared right back at him, fierce yet nervous.

 _I don't think it's your wishful thinking_ , he remembered.

“Do you believe me?” Enjolras whispered.

Grantaire had to just breathe for a moment, then he closed his eyes before opening them again to look at aers hopeful expression. “I think I’m starting to,” he whispered back.

**Author's Note:**

> nice tangled ref @ myself
> 
> you can find me on [tumblr](http://flabberballs.tumblr.com)!


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